Elven Star

6

Paithan joined a stream of men, led by lord Durndrun, rushing in the direction of the cry. Rounding the norinth wing of the house, they came to a skidding halt. Aleatha stood immobile on a small mossy knoll. Before her, its huge body between the woman and the carriage house, was the dragon. He was enormous. His head towered above the trees. His body’s full length was lost in the shadowy depths of the jungle. He was wingless, for he lived all of his life in the dark depths of the jungle floor, slithering around the boles of Pryan’s gigantic trees. Strong, taloned feet could tear through the thickest vegetation or strike down a man at a blow. His long tail whipped behind him as he moved, cutting swaths through the jungle, leaving trails that were well-known (and immensely feared) by adventurers. His intelligent red eyes were fixed on the woman.

The dragon was not threatening Aleatha; his great jaws had not parted, though the upper and lower fangs could be see.n protruding from the front of the mouth. A red tongue flicked in and out between the teeth. The armed men watched, unmoving, uncertain. Aleatha held very still.

The dragon cocked its head, gazing at her.

Paithan shoved his way to the front of the group. Lord Durndrun was stealthily releasing the catch on a railbow. The weapon awoke as Durndrun began raising the stock to his shoulder. The bolt in the rail was screeching, ‘Target? Target?’”

“The dragon,” Durndrun ordered.

“Dragon?” The bolt appeared alarmed, and was inclined to argue, a problem with intelligent weapons. “Please refer to owner’s manual, section B, paragraph three. I quote, ‘Not to be used against any foe larger than—’ ”

“Just go for the heart!” - “Which one?”

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Paithan caught hold of the lord’s elbow.

“I can get a good shot at the eyes—”

“Are you insane? You miss, and the dragon’ll go for Aleatha!” The lord was pale, his expression troubled, but he continued to make ready his railbow. “I’m an excellent shot, Paithan. Stand aside.”

“I won’t!”

“It’s the only chance we have! Damn it, man, I don’t like this any more than you do, but—”

“Excuse me, Sonny,” came an irritated voice from behind. “But you’re crumpling my hat!”

Paithan swore. He’d forgotten the old man, who was shoving his way through the crowd of tense, glowering men. “No respect for the elderly! Think we’re all doddering old fools, don’t you? Why I had a spell once that would have fried your socks off. Can’t think of the name offhand. Fire bell? No that’s not quite it. I have it—tire sale! No, doesn’t sound right, either. I’ll come up with it. And you. Sonny!” The old man was highly incensed. “Look what you’ve done to my hat!”

“Take the damn hat and—”

“Hush!” breathed Durndrun.

The dragon had slowly turned its head and was focusing on them. The red eyes narrowed.

“You!” the dragon snarled in a voice that rocked the foundations of the lord’s house.

The old man was attempting to beat some sort of shape back into his battered hat. At the sound of the thundering “You!” he peered around bleary-eyed and eventually caught sight of the gigantic green head rearing upward, level with the treetops.

“Ah ha!” cried the old man, staggering backward. He pointed a shaking, accusing finger. “You overgrown frog! You tried to drown me!”

“Frog!”

The dragon’s head shot upward, its front feet dug deep into the moss, shaking the ground. Aleatha stumbled and fell with a scream. Paithan and Lord Durndrun took advantage of the dragon’s distraction to run to the woman’s aid. Paithan crouched by her side, his arms around her-Lord Durndrun stood above her, his weapon raised. From the house came the wails of the women, certain that this was the end.

The dragon’s head dove downward, the wind of its passing ripped the leaves from the trees. Most of the elves hurled themselves flat; a few of the bravest held their ground. Lord Durndrun fired a bolt. Shrieking in protest, it struck the green, iridescent scales, bounced off, landed on the moss, and slithered away in the undergrowth. The dragon, seemingly, didn’t notice. His head stopped only a few feet from that of the old man.

“You sorry excuse for a wizard! You’re damn right I tried to drown you! But now I’ve changed my mind. Drowning’s too good for you, you moth-eaten relic! After I’ve dined on elf flesh, beginning with that toothsome blond appetizer over there, I’m going to rip the bones out of your skin one by one, starring with your little finger—”

“Oh, yeah?” shouted the old man. He jammed his hat on his head, threw his staff to the ground, and once again began rolling up his sleeves. “We’ll see about that!”

“I’ll fire now, while he’s not looking,” whispered Lord Durndrun. “Paithan, you and Aleatha make a run for it—”

“You’re a fool, Dumdrun! We can’t fight that beast! Wait and see what the old man can do. He told me he controls the dragon!”

“Paithan!” Aleatha dug her nails into his arm. “He’s a crazy old human. Listen to his lordship!”

“Shhh!”

The old man’s voice was rising in a high-pitched quaver. Closing his eyes, he wiggled his fingers in the dragon’s general direction and began to chant, swaying back and forth in time to the rhythm of his words. The dragon’s mouth parted, the wickedly sharp teeth glistened in the twilight, the tongue flicked dangerously.

Aleatha closed her eyes and buried her head in Lord Durn-drun’s shoulder, jostling the railbow, which squeaked in annoyance. The lord juggled the weapon, clumsily clasped his arm around the woman and held her tightly.

“You speak human! What’s he saying, Paithan?”

Paithan gasped, gulped. “I’m—I’m not certain. I suppose it must—er—be magic!” He began looking around on the ground for a large tree branch, anything he could use as a weapon. He didn’t think this was the time to tell the lord that the old man was attempting to spellbind a dragon by singing one of Thillia’s most popular drinking songs.

“Blessed Orn!” breathed Lord Dumdrun. “It’s working!” Paithan lifted his head, looked up in astonishment. The dragon’s snout had begun to bob up and down in time to the music.

The old man continued singing, taking Bonnie Earl through innumerable verses. The elves remained frozen, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. Aleatha and Lord Durndrun held each other a little closer. The dragon’s eyelids drooped, the old man’s voice softened. The creature seemed almost asleep when suddenly its eyes flew open, its. head reared up.

The elves grabbed their weapons. Lord Durndrun pushed Aleatha behind him. Paithan lifted a tree branch.

“My god, sir!” cried the dragon, staring at the old man. “You’re soaked through! What have you been doing?”

The old man looked sheepish. “Well, I—”

“You must change those wet clothes, sir, or you’ll catch your death. A warm fire and a hot bath are requisite.”

“I’ve had enough water—”

“If you please, sir. I know what’s best.” The dragon glanced about. “Who is the master of this fine house?”

Lord Durndrun shot a swift, questioning look at Paithan.

“Go along with it!” the young elf hissed.

“That—that would be me.” The lord seemed considerably at a loss, wondering vaguely if etiquette dictated the proper way to introduce oneself to a large and slavering reptile. He decided to keep it short and to the point. “I—I’m Durndrun. L—lord Durndrun.”

The red eyes fixed on the stammering knight. “I beg your pardon. My Lord. I apologize for interrupting your jollifications, but I know my duty and it is imperative that my wizard receive immediate attention. He’s a frail old man—”

“Who’re you calling frail, you fungus-ridden—”

“I trust my wizard is to be a guest in your house. My Lord?”

“Guest?” Lord Durndrun blinked, dazed. “Guest? Why, uh—”

“Of course, he’s a guest!” snapped Paithan in a furious undertone.

“Oh, yes. I see your point,” murmured the lord. He bowed. “I will be most honored to entertain—uh—What’s his name?” he muttered aside.

“Blessed if I know!”

“Find out!”

Paithan sidled over to the old man. “Thank you for rescuing us—”

“Did you hear what he called me?” demanded the old man. “Frail! I’ll frail him! I’ll—”

“Sir! Please listen. Lord Durndrun, the gentleman standing over there, would like to invite you to stay with him at his house. If we knew your name—”

“Can’t possibly.”

Paithan was confused. “Can’t possibly what?”

“Can’t possibly stay with that fellow. I’ve made prior commitments.”

“What is the delay?” demanded the dragon.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Paithan cast an uneasy glance back at the beast.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand and, you see, we don’t want to upset the—”

“Expected,” stated the old man. “I’m expected somewhere else. Chap’s house. I promised. And a wizard never breaks his word. Does terrible things to your nose.”

“Perhaps you could tell me where. It’s your dragon, you see. He seems—”

“Overprotective? A butler in a grade-B movie? Someone’s Jewish mother? You got it,” said the old man in gloomy tones. “Always happens when he’s spellbound. Drives me crazy. I like him better the other way, but he has an irritating habit of eating people if I don’t keep a leash on him.”

“Sir!” cried Paithan desperately, seeing the dragon’s eyes begin to glow red.

“Where are you staying?”

“There, there, Sonny. Don’t work yourself into a lather. You young people, always in a rush. Why didn’t you just ask? Quindiniar. Some fellow calls himself Lenthan Quindiniar. He sent for me,” added the old man with a lofty air. “Wanted—a human priest. Actually I’m not a priest. I’m a wizard. Priests were all out fund-raising when the message came through—”

“Orn’s ears!” murmured Paithan. He had the strangest feeling that he was wandering about in a dream. If so, it was high time Calandra threw a glass of water in his face. He turned back to Lord Durndrun. “I’m—I’m sorry, My Lord. But the—er—gentleman has already made a prior commitment. He’s going to be staying with … my father.”

Aleatha began to laugh. Lord Durndrun patted her shoulder anxiously, for there was an hysterical edge to her laughter, but she only threw back her head and laughed louder.

The dragon decided apparently that the laughter pertained to him. The red eyes narrowed alarmingly.

“Thea! Stop it!” ordered Paithan. “Pull yourself together! We’re not out of danger! I don’t trust either of ’em. And I’m not sure who’s crazier—the old man or his dragon!”

Aleatha wiped her streaming eyes. “Poor Gallic!” She giggled. “Poor Gallic!”

“I beg to remind you, gentlemen, that my wizard is standing around in wet clothing!” thundered the dragon. “He will likely take a chill and he is subject to a weakness in the lungs.”

“There’s not a thing wrong with my lungs—”

“If you’ll provide me with directions,” continued the dragon, looking martyred, “I will go on ahead and draw a hot bath.”

“No!” Paithan shouted. “That is—” He tried to think, but his brain was having a difficult time adjusting to the situation. Desperately, he turned to the old man. “We live on a hill overlooking the city. The sight of a dragon, coming on our people suddenly like this! … I don’t mean to be rude, but couldn’t you tell him to … well …”

“Go stick his head in the pantry?” The old man sighed. “It’s worth a try. Here, you! Dragon.”

“Sir.”

“I can draw my own bath. And I never catch cold! Besides, you can’t go galumping around the elves’ city in that seal carcass of yours. Scare the bejeebers outta them.”

“Bejeebers, sir?” The dragon glared, tilted his head slightly.

“Never mind! Just”—the old man waved a gnarled hand—“take yourself off somewhere until I call for you.”

“Very good, sir,” the dragon answered in hurt tones. “If that is what you truly want.”

“I do. I do. Now, go along.”

“I have only your best interests at heart, sir.”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

“You mean a great deal to me, sir.” The dragon began to move ponderously off into the jungle. Pausing, he swung his gigantic head around to face Paithan.

“You will see to it, sir, that my wizard puts on his overshoes before going out in the damp?”

Paithan nodded, tongue-tied.

“And that he bundles up well and winds his scarf around his neck and keeps his hat pulled low over his ears? And that he has “his warming drink first thing on awakening? My wizard, you see, suffers from irregularity—” Paithan stiff-armed the old man, who was howling imprecations and making a run for the dragon. “My family and I will take good care of him. He is, after all, our honored guest.”

Aleatha had buried her face in a handkerchief. It was difficult to tell if she was laughing or sobbing.

“Thank you, sir,” said the dragon gravely. “I leave my wizard in your hands. Mind you take good care of him, or you won’t enjoy the consequences.” The dragon’s great forefeet dug downward into the moss, sending it rolling, and slowly slithered into the hole it had created. They could hear, from far below, the rending and snapping of huge tree limbs and, finally, a thud. The rumbling continued for several more moments, then all was still and silent. Hesitantly, tentatively, the birds began to chirp.

“Are we safe from him if he’s down there?” Paithan asked the old man anxiously. “He isn’t likely to break loose from the spell and come looking for trouble, is he?”

“No, no. No need to worry, Sonny. I’m a powerful wizard. Powerful! Why I had a spell once that—”

“Did you? How interesting. If you’ll just come along with me, now, sir.” Paithan steered the old man to the carriage house. The elf thought it best to leave this place as soon as possible. Besides, it seemed likely that the party was over. But, he had to admit, it’d been one of Durndrun’s best. Sure to be talked about the rest of the social season.

The lord himself moved over to Aleatha, who was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. He extended his arm.

“May I escort you to the carriage?”

“If you like. My Lord,” answered Aleatha, a pretty flush mantling her cheeks, sliding her fingers through the crook of his elbow.

“What would be a convenient time for me to call?” asked Durndrun in an undertone.

“Call, My Lord?”

“On your father,” said the lord gravely. “I have something to ask him.” He laid his hand over hers, pulled her close. “Something that concerns his daughter.”

Aleatha glanced out of the comer of her eye back at the house. The dowager was standing in the window, watching them. The old lady had looked more pleased to see the dragon. Aleatha lowered her eyes, smiled coyly.

“Any time, My Lord. My father is always home and would be very honored to see you.”

Paithan was assisting the old man into the carriage.

“I’m afraid I still don’t know your name, sir,” said the elf, taking a seat next to the wizard.

“You don’t?” the old man asked, looking alarmed.

“No, sir. You haven’t told me.”

“Drat.” The wizard stroked his beard. “I was rather hoping you would. You’re sure you don’t?”

“Yes, sir.” Paithan glanced back uneasily, wishing his sister would hurry up. She and Lord Durndrun were, however, taking their time.

“Ah, well. Let’s see.” The old man muttered to himself. “Fiz—No, I can’t use that. Furball. Doesn’t seem quite dignified enough. I have it!” he shouted, smiting Paithan on the arm. “Zifnab!”

“Bless you!”

“No, no! My name! Zifnab! What’s the matter, Sonny?” The old man glared, eyebrows bristling. “Something wrong with it?”

“Why, er, certainly not! It’s … uh … a nice name. Really … nice. Oh, here you are, Thea!”

“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, allowing Durndrun to hand her into the carriage. Taking her seat behind Paithan and the old man, she favored the knight with a smile.

“I would escort you to your home, my friends, but I fear I must go and look for the slaves. It seems that the cowardly wretches took off at the sight of the dragon. May dreams light your darktime. My respects to your father and your sister.”

Lord Durndrun woke the drivehands, prodding them himself, and—with his own hands—gave the carriage a shove that started it on its way. Aleatha, glancing back, saw him standing, staring after her with a goggle-eyed gaze. She settled herself more comfortably in the carriage, smoothed out the folds of her dress.

“It looks as if you’ve done well for yourself, Thea,” said Paithan, grinning, leaning over the seat to give his sister an affectionate jab in the ribs. Aleatha reached up to arrange her disheveled hair. “Drat, I’ve left my hat behind. Ah, well. He can buy me a new one.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“As soon as possib—”

A snore interrupted her. Pursing her lips, she glanced in some disgust at the old man, who had fallen fast asleep, his head lolling against Paithan’s shoulder.

“Before the dowager has time to change her son’s mind, eh?” The elf winked. Aleatha arched her eyebrows. “She’ll try, no doubt, but she won’t succeed. My wedding will be—”

“Wedding?” Zifnab woke up with a violent start. “Wedding, did you say? Oh, no, my dear. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. No time, you see.”

“And why not, old one?” Aleatha asked, teasing, amusing herself. “Why won’t there be time for a wedding?”

“Because, children,” said the wizard and his tone suddenly changed, darkened, became sadly gentle, “I’ve come to announce the end of the world.”